


Mistletoe

by Lurlur



Series: Ineffable Advent Event [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 31 Days of Ineffables, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Ficlet, First Kiss, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:40:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21624694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurlur/pseuds/Lurlur
Summary: It's the first Christmas after the failed Armageddon and Aziraphale has decorated his shop for the first time. Neither of them claims to be responsible for the mistletoe though.For day 1 of Drawlight's 31 Days of Ineffables advent event!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Advent Event [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558564
Comments: 25
Kudos: 129





	Mistletoe

Mistletoe

The first Christmas after the failed Armageddon, Aziraphale does something he’s never done before and Crowley isn’t sure how to feel about it. The bookshop has felt more or less the same for over 200 years, with one notable exception that Crowley puts significant effort into not thinking about, and now it’s all _different_ and weird. Crowley takes his sunglasses off as soon as he steps into the bookshop as if they’re tricking him into seeing things that aren’t there.

“Aziraphale?” He calls out.

Aziraphale’s head pops out from behind the large Christmas tree in the centre of the shop floor.

“Ah, Crowley! What do you think?” Aziraphale says, brightly.

Crowley blinks slowly and attempts to absorb his surroundings. The bookshop is _bright_ and full of non-book things. The heavily decorated tree is just the beginning of it. There are garlands of seasonal foliage between the bookshelves, up the stairs to the mezzanine, and hanging from the ceiling, little lights twinkle within them.

“It looks like a Victorian Christmas novel threw up in here, angel,” Crowley says as he continues to take in his surroundings.

“Hmm,” Aziraphale sounds a touch put out, “I’m not sure that’s quite the imagery I was hoping to inspire.”

Crowley instantly regrets his choice of words.

“Nah, look, it’s good. Yeah? Very Christmassy. I like the, uh, hangy things.”

 _Smooth, Crowley, inspired Shakespeare with that eloquence, did we?_ He berates himself internally even as Aziraphale beams at him.

“Oh, thank you! I was hoping for a traditional sort of feeling. I do hope I didn’t get carried away.” Aziraphale’s ever-present need for validation and comfort presents a distraction that they both need. Crowley stalks around the shop, circling the tree and making a show of inspecting the decorations.

“Hm, looks perfect to me,” Crowley comes to a stop beside Aziraphale and drapes his arm across Aziraphale’s shoulders. “You’ve been working hard. Let me treat you to dinner?”

Aziraphale’s happy little wiggle under Crowley’s arm is all the answer he needs.

“Come on, then. Get your coat.”

Aziraphale ducks out from the casual embrace and steps deeper into the shop for a moment.

“I just need to set one thing straight and I’ll be ready to go.”

Crowley nods and meanders back towards the door to wait, admiring a garland of glossy holly leaves and blood-red berries on the way. Aziraphale catches up with him by the coat stand.

“Oh, Crowley. Really?” Aziraphale chides.

Crowley pauses, confused. He hasn’t done anything, the only thing he’s holding are his sunglasses, he pats himself down to check that nothing obnoxious and Christmassy has got stuck to him. Satisfied that he’s in the clear, Crowley looks back at Aziraphale who is gazing at a little bunch of mistletoe that hangs between their heads.

“Huh? How am I in trouble for your decorating choices?”

“I didn’t hang any mistletoe, Crowley,” Aziraphale says softly, moving a touch closer to Crowley.

Crowley glances up at it again.

“Angel, you obviously did. We’re both looking at it.” Crowley’s confusion grows with each second.

Aziraphale shakes his head, bringing his focus down slowly from the offending vegetation to Crowley’s eyes. Crowley’s fingers twitch around his sunglasses in reflex, warring instincts at an impasse within him. Aziraphale smiles and shrugs.

“’Tis the season.”

He reaches for Crowley’s lapels and pulls him down the couple of inches that make up their height difference. Aziraphale presses his lips to Crowley’s firmly and breaks away with an exaggerated kissing noise. He’s laughing and doesn’t seem to have noticed Crowley’s tightly balled fists, his crushed glasses, or the bright flush that has covered his entire upper body. The shattered sunglasses drop to the floor with a thud which brings Aziraphale’s attention back into the moment.

“Oh dear! Are you quite alright there, Crowley?”

Crowley doesn’t answer with words. Mirroring Aziraphale’s actions of a few moments previous, he grabs fistfuls of Aziraphale’s jacket and bends to press his lips to Aziraphale’s. This time there’s no joking noise, or amused giggles, just a muffled noise of surprise and a soft thump when Aziraphale is pushed against the pillar. Crowley just kisses, chaste and repeated, with his hands holding on to Aziraphale for dear life. He’s waiting for the penny to drop in Aziraphale’s mind, for him to push away or start responding. _Please kiss me back_. His desperate thoughts are racing, wondering how long he can wait for a reaction, how elastic his perception of time is right now. Finally, Aziraphale’s hands move and take hold of Crowley’s waist. He can’t stop kissing Aziraphale now that he’s started, Crowley knows he won’t stop until Aziraphale makes him but this might be the moment and he isn’t ready. But he isn’t pushed away, he’s drawn closer; Aziraphale holds him tighter and finally, _finally_ , starts to kiss him back. It’s tentative and Crowley has to slow down to match it, but it’s really happening and it’s incredible. Aziraphale parts his lips and touches the tip of his tongue to Crowley’s bottom lip. Immediately, Crowley opens to welcome him, coaxing Aziraphale’s tongue to meet his. His hands slowly unclench and smooth Aziraphale’s jacket before running up around the back of Aziraphale’s neck so their bodies are pressing together. Time loses all meaning, it’s just him and Aziraphale kissing and holding each other. Nothing else needs to exist.


End file.
